Raeia's Journal
by chinitowits
Summary: Disclaimer: Characters mentioned in this page are either the author's own creation or another player's character(s) the author had played with. Characters of other players mentioned in here will be credited to its respective owner and has permission of the player. Soul Sacrifice is a game by developers Marvelous AQL, Japan Studio and Comcept for the Sony Playstation Vita.
1. Prologue

Prologue: Avalon's Soldier

It is a cruel place we live in. A place where life and death start where justice is served, at a time where life is at the mercy of those same people who judge the innocence and sins of people who became too strong for their own good. Save or sacrifice: two choices we have to make. Choices we use to judge beings whose existence strayed from the natural cycle of the same thing they hold dear, their life. We are people who serve the world; we are men who gave up our being for the better of many. We are the people who save lives by sacrificing our own. We are men who are either feared or exalted by many. We are sorcerers. I am a sorcerer. Avalon soldier, Raeia.

It has been years since I have wrote anything. Never did it occur to me that there will be a time when I shall jot down the experiences I had from days or hours that had passed but here I am reminiscing what had just unfolded. Who would have thought that I – a man, if I can still be called a man, who have been at death's door numerous times have the gall to dramatize today's event. Maybe it was the pain, maybe it was the trauma, maybe I am a romantic or maybe it was the insanity calling me to start writing. For some reason, I find that latter appealing. It tugs my heart and pains my brain. These maniacal memories that come and go remind me of something that is or was mine but not so. It is hard to know which is mine or not. Those synapses from years that passed by, as I came to know, are not as reliable as it seems. The images appear bright as day, as vivid as realism like how I see through my eyes personally but only to remember that these thoughts are not mine but of someone else's. Usually those things that look vague and insignificant which hid at the deepest recesses of my memory are those that are really mine. These indistinct memories are so bleak and dull more so than those pictures of monsters and people from sorcerer's books that they look so unrealistic and dreamy. The masters in Avalon have warned us of these thoughts and recollections but it seemed surreal a fact that it was hard to believe at first and until now, the idea still sound strange even the experience itself in truth that makes it even hard to accept and distinguish. No wonder not many sorcerers grow old sane, not that there are that many old sorcerers to count anyways. How I wish I had not been given this fate, how I wish I have not been a sorcerer but then again, if I am not how I am today how can I had the chance to taste this sweet taste of blood in my mouth?

Sweet, oh so sweet. The distinct tang of that red trickle of oozing blood is so ardent and irresistible that it had become the reason why I push myself to delve into these dangerous situations. Pungent and messy it is, but that same strong scent ushers my own blood rising giving me the thrill and adrenaline to fight and live and die then live again just to die and come again alive to keep moving forward to that shower of blood. Despite the dismay and disgust I feel with the decaying corpses I find lying around the battle ground, I still get the motivation to fight when I see my peers in combat restlessly battling it out despite the hopelessness, tiredness and the wounds they incurred but more so, it is the poor and bloody bodies of both friends and fiends alike especially the blood-soaked bodies of newly skewered victims loitering around that give me unparalleled motivation. It is the goal of a blood bath that I always look forward to. To decapitate the head and pierce the heart is my ultimate agenda. Then after that, to get that escaping and fast flowing red juice of life on my lips, in my mouth and down the hatch to quench that insatiable thirst and hunger for the sweet aftertaste of… death, as one may call it, is my ultimate price. Thinking about it, isn't it funny how such an exciting experience be deadened by not being able to extract all its blood? If only Avalon would let me enjoy more of it before sacrificing the poor thing.

Anyhow, one time I had been at the wrong to word out my feelings to a one-time partner that I had. He did not understand. He called me insane. Silly that one was. He was still green. An amateur and a youngling. A newbie to this vocation we chose. How can he understand? I am not insane. I merely stated a fact. How one feels after invoking that beast within. I do not fight these atrocious monsters because I want to. I am just doing my part as a soldier of Avalon. I am not looking for blood because I want to kill. I look for blood to live just like how everyone fights to live in this cruel world. Greedy people need shelter, clothes, money, air, food and water. But I need just one: my fill of blood. I never heard from that foolish sorcerer again. Not that I care anyways. He left me without saying a word but at least he was good enough to leave a glass of blood at my bedside table. Probably he understood me a little. Probably. I will never know but most likely he understood for I know that glass he left was filled with his own blood. I never saw him leaving, I never saw him placing the glass on top of the table but for some reason I knew the blood was his. In fact, he may have tried a taste of his own blood for when I went to his vacated room all that was there was his soiled and bloody change of clothes atop his red-stained bed. Foolish he really was. Left me alone to clean his rented room. Good thing he did not bring much valuables else it will take me a while to throw them out and possibly beget the wrath of the stupid-looking innkeeper.

Well that is all for today. I feel tired but restless at the same time. I think I'll go out for a hunt. 'Til later my dear diary.


	2. Entry One: Librom

One:

Avalon contacted me few hours ago and had put me on an assignment to search for an old book. Librom they named the book as. Details are obscure, its history dubious to a point. Anything current that has to do with the book is unknown. Location, owner, even how it supposedly looks like is uncertain. "It may have the ability to change shape like how our arm changes when power surges within," the Elder Master Endene said.

"As for Librom's past, it is not entirely a mystery to us but it is completely irrelevant to your mission that we do not need to inform you about it. What we will divulge to you however is our knowledge that Librom is a living book that entices men to learn the dark, and prohibited arts of the sacred discipline of us _true_ sorcerers."

'_True sorcerers_,' again with the nonsense. The organization had really been keen on telling its members and protégés of who are the true disciples of the '_sacred_' art. Insistent on proving who are true or not, we have been on an uneasy truce with another group of sorcerers. A truce with a concord so brittle that a little breeze can break the unwritten pact both had shared. Anyways, I will not be surprised if there is an underground battle between us two groups. The leaders of Avalon will never admit it, but many of us members do not doubt it. In fact this mission I have been contracted with has a condition tagged in it. "Do not let the Sanctuary get it. Procure Librom using any means necessary. **Any**," there was a hard inflection on the last word. Failure is not an option.

When you think about it, how many times have I not followed Avalon's strict order? "Kill them all," is the simplest way of putting our motto into perspective. It was an absolute order to let dyeing men die, foes and friends alike. Nevertheless I have saved some of my partners when crucial moments came. I save my partner when it suits me, I save partner I am fond of, I save my partner on a whim, I save my partner whenever I feel like it then kill anyone that irritates me. Good thing those I saved were grateful. Otherwise I would have already been reported to Avalon. I wonder what the organization will do when they find out. Will I be killed? Or will I be pardoned? Well who do I kid, it is not a question. I will be terminated without doubt. Terminated not from service, but terminated from this god forsaken world. I am not someone special. I am neither an elite nor do I hold a secret too precious to let go. That idea urges me sometimes to jump ship and join the Sanctuary. I would if I could but the blood calls out to me and I am way too tainted for the 'righteous' Sanctuary to let in.

My arm, my condition. How many years have I been doing this? I cannot recall. I have fought too many fiends to count that numbers and dates did not matter. My right arm is my calendar. The darker it gets, the longer time I have served the order. What I can say is, I have served long but not long enough. They say power accumulates in our arm the more souls we take in. The more souls we obtain, the stronger we get. The stronger we get, the closer we are to losing it. If that is the case, I may be on the way. The foul and putrid oblivion is calling out to me claiming my whole arm. I have my reservations though that I am one of those '_strong_' people whose screws got loose. I know for a fact that I can withheld my power, I know without doubt that I my will is still stronger than my arm. Strong enough to reason out and resist my urge for blood as I am yet to kill either an innocent bystander. Or am I wrong? There is this misty red flash that goes in and out in my lucid dreams. Was that a recollection of a past? Was that my past or someone else's? Or was it just what it was? A dream? In that dream I hear a hushed voice that seemed like a scream. A bone reaching out and a cup of… red wine perhaps? The dream was too vague and abstract. I could not place if it was factual or nay.

To be fair I am stronger than normal, just like any other magi out there. But it pains me that despite how strong I am, my condition… my sickness has not improved. You see I have an illness that puts me beside Death's door all the time. A curse it feels like. Although I am yet to be killed in an encounter with a monster, my ailment already got the better of me. I am frail. I am weak. I am stronger than normal but a common flu can kill me. Luckily being who I am, being in the profession I am in, because of the souls I sucked out—my body changed somehow and I have been saved from common sickness yet I am not free of it. This disorder I am born with is inexplicable up to current. Sorcerers are neither doctors nor scientists, we can heal, we can save but we cannot cure. I am in search for a cure, be it another fiend's soul, a spell, or another curse, I do not care. If I can be saved from this damned disease, I will take even the devil's proposal. If my notion is right, this quest to Librom will hold the answer to my prayers.


End file.
